


i love it on you

by dhils



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, real vikings get topped by twinks send tweet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-04
Updated: 2018-11-04
Packaged: 2019-08-17 09:59:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16514180
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dhils/pseuds/dhils
Summary: And Tysonknowsthere are countless guys that would be so eager to get him like this, to get the Gabe Landeskog that flushes down to his chest and whines when you pull his hair.





	i love it on you

**Author's Note:**

> writing for a ship other than nico/nolan is an out of body experience..........a bitch?? quaking.

Out on the ice, Gabe’s a force to be reckoned with. He’s a big body, a player without hesitation, the kind of guy that’ll drop his gloves on you just because the game’s tempo is dropping. He’s got this fire in his eyes and a heat under his skates that carries him just right. He’s intimidating, strong, and he never backs down from a challenge.

It’s no shocker that with his presence on the ice, Gabe’s got the muscle mass to go along with it. He’s tall, with strong arms and long legs. He’s never looked like the gangly type, his muscles dense and compact under rosy skin, but there’s something so pretty about him. Something delicate and quiet, softening up his edges.

There’s always something behind his eyes, whether it’s when he’s between Tyson’s legs or up in his lap, this frail innocence he wears like he’s never gotten fucked. Like Tyson’s never held him down and fingered him until he’s _weeping_ , or as if the bruises on his ass he’d hidden so fucking terribly in the locker room were just short of a reminder. Gabe gets fucked like he’s never done it before, always this blushing mess, always begging for more, always unsure like he’s not aware of whether or not he’s doing okay. 

But that’s the thing, Gabe does it so well. He’s just so good at getting fucked, taking it like it’s his side job. And Tyson _knows_ there are countless guys that would be so eager to get him like this, to get the Gabe Landeskog that flushes down to his chest and whines when you pull his hair, to get _his_ Gabe. 

Gabe’s already so fucking gorgeous, he’s the centre of attention at practically all times, and he doesn’t even do much to earn it. It’s all eyes on him the moment he walks in a room because he’s just so goddamn _pretty_. And Tyson knows he is, but not like anyone else does. No one else has seen Gabe stuffed full, no one’s seen him crying to get fucked while he tugs at his nipple, his skin burning a brilliant red, no one’s spent a night slowly taking Gabe apart, just to put him back together again in the morning. 

People just wouldn’t expect Gabe to be the type to take dick. Tyson hadn’t either, not the first time they hooked up, and it’s all because of his sheer size. Gabe isn’t small, not by a long shot, and he’s heavier than Tyson— _bigger_ than Tyson, but he falls so easily, and Tyson is just so happy to give, and give, and give. To pin Gabe down and listen to the way his breaths go shallow, how quickly he loses his composure when Tyson’s on top of him.

And you’d never know it happened the next day, not unless Gabe loses his footwork or grimaces whenever he sits down, because Gabe’s sweet, a good boy with perfect morals and trusting blue eyes. He’s tough on the ice and an angel off of it, oh-so polite with his Swedish manners tucked right under his sleeve. Sometimes, though, he’s too polite, maybe. Sometimes he’s flat out oblivious, Tyson thinks. 

Because Gabe’s kind with his soft little smile and he doesn’t even think twice before walking around in clothing that leaves little to nothing to imagination. He’ll eat ice cream in public, and lick his fingers clean without batting an eye. If he has to bend over to grab something, he’ll do it without a single thought of just how many people are looking. He just doesn’t know the first thought that pops into peoples' heads is holding him up against a wall and railing him from behind. He doesn’t know that when he walks around after practice in compression tights, all anyone wants is to rip a hole in them and grab at his ass. 

Luckily enough, Tyson’s not the jealous type. He’s got enough faith in Gabe to know he can trust him, but he still likes marking him up and taking him out without a scarf to cover it up. He likes to watch as a stranger’s gaze flicks between them as they put together the pieces in their head, or imagine the emotions that burn in their stomach when Tyson holds him close and whispers filth into his ear. Watching the expression on Gabe’s face twist from calm to heated. 

And after their first game of the season, Tyson’s just lucky enough that Gabe insists they skip going out, skip the drinks, and skip the club. He’s so fucking eager to get him home that he’s practically shoving him through his bedroom door, deft hands pulling off their shirts and undoing buttons. 

It always mesmerizes Tyson, how quick Gabe is to lead, how fucking desperate and rapid his kisses are until Tyson lowers him to the bed. Until he’s surrounded by plush white sheets and Tyson’s mouth is on top, pressing in slower, deeper. 

Tyson likes to drag things out, to really make Gabe feel it, turning him into a pleading mess by the time Tyson’s inside him. It gets him whining, turns him needy and gets him teetering dangerously on the edge, but Tyson always gives him what he deserves. Because Gabe’s his pretty boy and he deserves so fucking much.

When they pull back from kissing, Tyson’s got a chance to admire the considerably quicker rise and fall of Gabe’s naked chest. And to add to that, he’s got long lashes that cast web-like shadows over his cheeks. They make him look so delicate, so fucking fragile, that Tyson has to rip his eyes away like a bandaid to bring himself to focus. “You wanna turn around for me?” He offers, giving Gabe’s hip a gentle tap as he gets off of him.

Like always, Gabe is so quick to obey, too dizzy to ask questions. And Tyson admires that so much, groping leisurely at Gabe’s ass through his boxers before pressing a hand to the curve of his spine. He applies enough pressure that Gabe gets the hint to drop down to his elbows, and that makes Tyson smile, running a hand down his back.

“How do you want it, babe?” Tyson asks, hooking his fingers under the waistband of Gabe’s boxers and kissing over the little dimples right above his ass. 

“I wanna feel it tomorrow,” Gabe says, and Tyson realizes he’s got his head turned to look at him, pretty blue eyes hazy and calm. “When I wake up—I want you to do that to me.”

This time when Tyson dips in, he bites the swell of Gabe’s ass, sucking the skin between his teeth. It gets a little noise out of him and he pushes further into Tyson’s space, asking for more. 

Someday Tyson’s going to spread him out and make Gabe come from just his mouth alone. He’ll make the pretty sounds he always does whenever Tyson’s going down on him, burying a hand in Tyson’s hair with scrabbling fingers. And he’ll go all night if he has to, until Gabe’s eyes are watering and he’s fucking writhing underneath him.

But.

Today, he’s gonna fuck him. He’s gonna give Gabe just what he wants, because he’s earned it. 

“I’ve got you, okay?” Tyson tells him, stroking a slow hand down the side of his thigh. He gives it a little squeeze before grabbing for a condom and lube. 

Gabe always keeps his stuff in the same drawer, and Tyson thinks he could find exactly what he needs in the dark if he had to, because he’s just so predictable. Always in the bottom drawer of his nightstand, hidden in the corner. Tyson has to bite back a smile when Gabe makes an impatient sound like he wants to say something, even if nothing actually comes out. He’s sweet like that, watching Tyson with his ass in the air. It’s a lot.

The first finger slips in with about as much resistance as it always meets, and Tyson’s heartbeat jumps when Gabe’s eyes flutter shut with this content little sigh, like he’s been waiting all day for something to fill him up, arching his back into Tyson. 

He gives it a moment, because even if Gabe’s already trying to fuck his finger, he doesn’t want to hurt him. It wouldn’t be a fun conversation to have with Avalanche management if he ended up injured rushing through this. And Gabe can take it, he _knows_ that, but Tyson doesn’t want to leave him hurt. 

Tyson hears Gabe’s breath catch when he curls his finger ever so slightly, but he keeps it going. “We good?” 

“Yeah,” Gabe says, his voice watery. “Yeah, yeah, c’mon.”

Tyson doesn’t wait much longer to give him a second, even if watching Gabe getting bothered over just one is enough to make his stomach stir with heat. It’s almost second nature when Tyson reaches out to slide a hand down Gabe’s chest, letting his fingernails brush over his nipples. 

It doesn’t take long for Tyson to realize that the head of Gabe’s cock is dragging against the bedsheets every time he gets bumped forward, urging him along with every forward thrust. Hence the little grunts that slip out his throat, the way his fingers curl into the sheets, resisting the will to touch.

“Tell me what you want,” Tyson says, keeping his voice soft. “Talk to me.”

“Please,” Gabe breathes, his legs are shivering with having to hold himself up. “I want—Tyson, just.” Nothing especially coherent comes out of his mouth after that, garbled against the sheets. But brushing a third finger against his rim gets a reaction out of him, so Tyson gives him one last thrust and pulls out his fingers, nice and slow. 

“Fuck, you’re just so good for it, aren’t you?” Tyson murmurs, pressing a kiss to his hip, and he can’t help but dig his teeth into the skin there—getting another noise out of Gabe. It’s just easy, it’s so fucking easy. He’s quick to get the condom on.

“Just for you,” Gabe says, and he throws his gaze back over his shoulder, meeting Tyson with dark eyes. “Just—“ He cuts himself off when Tyson presses the blunt tip of his dick against Gabe’s hole. “Fuck me, please, c’mon.”

Tyson laughs, but it’s breathy because he wants this just as bad, he’s been waiting for what feels like years, and it’s just a matter of sinking in. It sends a jolt of warmth up Tyson’s spine once he’s fully seated, and Gabe makes this choked off sound when he grinds forward. 

“Yeah, that’s it,” Tyson mumbles, looking down at the way Gabe’s ass is pressed up up against his hips, watching the long line of his backs, the little dips and divots here and there. He loves him — every part of him. “We good?”

“So good,” Gabe answers almost immediately, and Tyson takes it as a cue to start moving. 

It’s fucking insane to him, just how good it is. How good it always is. With Gabe rocking back against him and shamelessly letting out these needy sounds, begging Tyson to go faster or harder, all spread out for him—flushed and beautiful. Tyson wants to take him apart, just like this. He tightens his grip on Gabe’s hips, wanting to leave marks that he’ll feel in the morning, and holds onto him like he’s the only thing keeping him up. 

Gabe doesn’t sound anything but pleased, pressing the side of his face into his sheets and letting his lips quirk up while he gets fucked. It’s sweet, and Tyson has to will himself down from cooing at him for it. 

“You’re so good, babe, feel so fucking good for me,” Tyson says, just to feel the way Gabe arches up into his grip. And he doesn’t think he’s ever going to get over having _Gabe Landeskog_ like this, the pretty boy with bone-breaking checks. He’s underneath Tyson, moaning his name, and it’s just — thinking of it like _that_ goes straight to Tyson’s dick. 

It’s not going to be long now, Tyson can feel the tightening in his stomach, so he reaches down to wrap his fingers around Gabe’s dick, just tight enough to get him there. He keeps his strokes short and quick, punching little gasps out of Gabe.

“Tyson, that—don’t stop,” he pleads, and the desperation curling around his voice gets to Tyson immediately. He’s not gonna last any longer.

“You wanna come for me?” Tyson asks, quickening the pace of his hand. “Close?”

“Oh, _fuck_.” Gabe lets out a strangled gasp and he’s biting in the sheets by his head now, still trembling with it. How bad he wants _this_

And that’s enough. Because Gabe’s moaning through an orgasm as loud as he fucking wants, with Tyson still fucking him through it, still keeping his thrusts short and quick, and he thinks Gabe is going to fall over from how his legs slip up slightly.

Tyson tightens the grip he has on Gabe’s hips, practically holding him up. “Need me to stop?”

“No,” Gabe rushes out, his voice going thin. There’s no way it’s not too much, the overstimulation on his end, and Tyson gets off on that—Gabe’s _need_ to please, the desperation to give Tyson exactly what he wants, and it’s. Just.

When he comes, he’s flush against Gabe, grinding in just to watch him stiffen up and slump down against the bed, breathing hard. Tyson’s watching the shift of muscles in his back while he ties off the condom, laughing quietly when Gabe tells him, “There goes walking properly for the next week.” 

“Don’t be such a princess,” Tyson jokes, throwing out the condom, and Gabe grunts in protest. 

“I am not,” he says, pulling Tyson close when he lies down in bed next to him. “You wanna shower?” 

“In a bit. Just soak in the afterglow a little.”

Gabe laughs against Tyson’s collarbone. “Okay, well, I feel gross, so soak a little faster.”

Tyson presses a kiss to the top of his head and he still can’t believe he got so fucking lucky.


End file.
